To all intents and purposes, Alice did: she married the Honorable George Keppel, son of the 7th Earl of Albemarle. The Keppel family had a history of service to the British royal family, being descendants of Arnold Joost van Keppel, who had accompanied King William III of England to Britain in 1688 and been given the title of Earl of Albemarle in 1696. The Hon. George was a handsome, well-set-up man four years Alice’s senior, a lieutenant in the Gordon Highlanders who stood nearly six foot eight in his bearskin and curled his moustache every morning with hot tongs. Harold Acton once observed that “one could picture him waltzing superbly to the strains of ‘The Merry Widow.’”5
Alice, at twenty-three, was a handsome Scotswoman, small but beautifully proportioned, with magnificent auburn hair, alabaster skin, and turquoise eyes. If Alice’s admirers found something Mediterranean about her curvy figure and superabundant vitality, they were correct. Alice’s maternal grandmother had come from the Greek island of Zakynthos.6 Alice and George were married on June 1, 1891. Their first house was 7 West Halkin Street, Belgravia; then they moved to 2 Wilton Crescent, part of the Grosvenor estate, built by Seth Smith and Thomas Cubitt in the 1820s, a suitable base for their role in London. In many respects, Alice and the Hon. George had a good marriage; there was enormous affection on both sides. Sadly, there were financial problems from the start: neither of them possessed much in the way of money, making it difficult for Alice to launch herself into London society. Like Alice, the Hon. George came from one of those aristocratic families that had seen better days. A “younger son,” with no inheritance to look forward to, George had income apart from his army pay and a small allowance from his father. There was a certain symmetry in their financial plight, which perhaps explains their compatibility. Keeping up with society, attending dinner parties and giving them in return, staying in country houses and possessing the clothes to wear while doing this presented a real difficulty. It was Alice who resolved the issue in her characteristically pragmatic fashion with a discreet series of affairs, selecting men from the fringes of the Marlborough House set who contributed to her upkeep. Alice’s first affair was with Ernest Beckett, 2nd Baron Grimthorpe, later assumed to have been the father of Alice’s first daughter, Violet. Alice also had an affair with Humphrey Sturt, 2nd Baron Alington. The Hon. George accepted this behavior with admirable restraint, the model of the mari complaisant.7 Alice Keppel also possessed another characteristic, a vital asset for a woman chronically short of money. According to her daughter Sonia, throughout her life Alice “was irresistibly attractive to bank managers.”8
“There was one in particular, a most useful Mr Montagu of the Westminster Bank at Victoria Gate,” recalled Sonia.9 Alice would walk across the park “with the tirelessness of a Scots gillie”10 to visit Mr. Montagu in his private office. “Once inside it, he would place Mamma opposite him, with myself between them, and make his opening remarks in a reverently low tone as though he was praying in church. Usually, whatever the season, Mamma was veiled. Placing her umbrella or parasol on the table, then she would lift her veil, and Mr Montagu seemed to catch his breath a little as he beheld her beautiful face.”11
Thus, the usually prosaic discussion about overdrafts would become “utterly delicious,” Alice’s request for further funds would be granted, and then she would sweep out, with her little girl by her side, leaving Mr. Montagu unable to return to his dusty ledgers while the faint smell of “fresh green sap” that was Alice Keppel’s personal fragrance lingered on in the dark office.12
Beautiful, vivacious Alice and the man they liked to call “Edward the Caresser” were made for each other: their relationship was inevitable. But exactly when they first met is the subject of much conjecture. Biographer Anita Leslie maintains that Alice was introduced to Bertie at Sandown Races, where Bertie was of course immediately impressed by “the delectable Alice’s” lovely face and fashionably curved figure.13 Alice, at twenty-nine, and at the height of her beauty, bowled over the fifty-six-year-old Bertie with her “turquoise eyes, extraordinary attraction of manner,” and her husky voice.14
Another theory is that the couple were introduced by Baroness de Stoeckl on the French Riviera in 1898, as the Baroness thought Bertie might be “amused” by Mrs. Keppel.15 Raymond Lamont-Brown suggests that Bertie first encountered Alice Keppel at a ball given by Harty-Tarty, now the 8th Duke of Devonshire, to celebrate Queen Victoria’s Golden Jubilee. The ball, at Devonshire House, Piccadilly, on July 2, 1897, was attended by Bertie and Alix, the Duke and Duchess of York, and everyone who was anyone in society. Alice Keppel was among the guests, dressed as the Duchess de Polignac, one of Marie Antoinette’s courtiers.16 Meanwhile, Sir Philip Magnus claimed that the Keppels first entertained Bertie to dinner on February 27, 1898,17 where the other guests remarked on their astonishing display of sexual chemistry. An “understanding” between the prince and Mrs. Keppel “arose almost overnight” according to one eyewitness.18 So strong was this “understanding” that a full-blown affair developed immediately, and Mrs. Keppel became established as “official mistress” within weeks.
Bertie needed a different type of mistress by this stage. Daisy Warwick had become a liability and bored him with her campaigning and progressive views. Less athletic now, but still demanding, Bertie required a younger woman to keep him interested, but no longer the sort of girl like Lillie, who would slide downstairs on a silver tray or pop ice cream down his neck.19 With his best years behind him, Bertie had finally become aware of the whims of his subjects; decorum, not scandal, was now the order of the day. Alice Keppel filled the role perfectly, “a lady so different from Lady Warwick, so discreet, so restful, so undemanding—the perfect mistress for an ageing man.”20
There is no reason to suppose that Bertie departed from his usual seduction technique when he encountered Alice Keppel: the expression of charmed and obvious interest, the affectionate glance, and, in due course, the arrival of a letter from Sir Francis Knollys suggesting that Alice might like to ask Bertie for afternoon tea when the Hon. George would not be at home. As the Hon. George had just been accepted for membership at the exclusive St. James’s Club in Piccadilly, this would not present a problem. Alice would have known exactly what to expect, from her previous experiences with society lovers. The maid would enter with a tray of tea and cakes, and retire discreetly. In the drawing room, flirtation would ensue, a passionate embrace, perhaps—many of Bertie’s ex-lovers complained about his excessive sentimentality—and possibly even full sexual intercourse, though a combination of Bertie’s weight and ill health would have made this awkward. Alice’s comparative youth and fitness was in her favor. She could perform her duties, jockey-style, while Bertie lay beneath her. It is said that in his own quarters, Bertie had a “hanging harness, complete with footholds” to make intercourse more feasible.21
Alice swiftly became Bertie’s beloved little “Mrs. George” and their relationship was established. Although the affair started so quickly, it did not burn out; Mrs. George and Bertie were made for each other. Promotion to the rank of royal mistress brought its rewards: Alice and her family moved from their old, narrow house in Wilton Crescent to an impressive new residence at Portman Square, where Alice could entertain her royal lover in style. Over the years, Alice’s daughters came to accept Bertie’s visits as part of the routine of family life. Vita Sackville-West, lover of Alice’s daughter, Violet, recalled visits to Portman Square during childhood: “Often when I went to their house I used to see a discreet little one-horse brougham waiting outside and the butler would slip me into a dark corner of the hall with a murmured ‘One minute, miss, a gentleman is coming downstairs’ so that I may take my choice whether it was the King or the doctor.”22 Violet herself remembered “a fat bald gentleman who smelt of cigars and eau-de-Portugal, whose fingers were covered in rings and to whom one curtsied endlessly”23
Sonia, Alice’s younger daughter, born in 1900, had memories of being dressed up and given firm instructions by her nanny before being s
ent downstairs to the drawing room. “‘Be sure to curtesy to the king,’ nanny would say,”24 but Sonia was too nervous to raise her eyes above the gentleman’s midriff, so sometimes ended up curtsying to Sir Ernest Cassel by mistake.
Violet and Sonia were taught to call Bertie “Kingy.” Fortunately, “Kingy” loved children and was very indulgent, allowing Sonia to play a fascinating game. “On his outstretched and immaculately trousered legs, she would place two pieces of bread, buttered side down. Bets of a penny each would be laid on which piece of bread would slide down more quickly; the winning piece always being more buttery. “The excitement was intense while the contest was on.”25 Bertie must have been particularly indulgent toward Sonia to allow this contest to take place. He was noted for being obsessively well turned out, and could not bear to wear anything with a spill or a stain. On one occasion, when he suffered a splash of spinach to his starched white shirt, he was so angry that he plunged both hands into the serving dish and smeared the rest across his shirt, leaving the table with a laugh and going upstairs to change.26
At the height of her affair with Bertie, Alice was extraordinarily beautiful. “I can picture her as she lay back among her lace pillows, her beautiful chestnut hair unbound around her shoulders,” recalled Sonia. “And I can see the flowers sent as oblations to this goddess, the orchids, the malmaisons, the lilies. Great beribboned baskets of them, delivered in horse-drawn vans by a coachman and attendant in livery. They would have been banked in tall, cut-glass vases about her bed.”27 Alice’s bedroom was always full of the scent of flowers, and “a certain elusive smell, like fresh green sap, that came from herself.”28
Violet remembered that “my mother began as an atmosphere … luminous, resplendent … she not only had a gift of happiness, but she excelled in making others happy. She resembled a Christmas tree laden with presents for everyone.”29
Alice soon proved her worth as the royal mistress, taking a vital role in alleviating Bertie’s boredom. Alice knew how to entertain Bertie as few others did. So many of Bertie’s hosts and hostesses dreaded “that terrible moment when the king would ‘drum with irritable fingers upon the arm of his chair or upon the dinner table’ … for the King, genial as he could be, was known to lose interest easily.” But everything seemed easier when Alice was present, “therefore he wanted her constantly at hand, at every house party and every dinner, and to be alone with at the end of a tiring evening.”30
As a mistress, Alice Keppel “took her post seriously and her well-bred, handsome husband raised no objections. Discreet, intelligent, and well informed, she became even more so as the king’s intimate companion.”31 Raised in a family devoted to service, Alice was almost fulfilling a ceremonial function in her role as the king’s mistress. Alix seemed to respect this, and treated Alice as a friend. Unlike Daisy Warwick, Alice was often invited to stay at Sandringham. Once she had become his mistress, Alice was entirely faithful to the king, despite the fact that “he was gross, he was still sensual, he was indeed still unfaithful all round.”32 Somehow, despite these characteristics, Bertie “remained extraordinarily endearing—a man of sensitivity, a man who could laugh at small joys and weep at his friends’ sorrows, a man whom it was hard to know and not love.”33
Chapter Twenty-one
GOLDEN YEARS
God save the king, and preserve Mrs Keppel from his rage!
—ALICE KEPPEL
Despite her beauty, charm, and diplomacy, Alice Keppel was not popular with everyone. The Duke of Norfolk, head of the country’s leading Roman Catholic family, would not invite Alice to Arundel Castle, his stately home in Sussex, and she was banned from Welbeck Abbey, Nottinghamshire, home of the Duke of Portland.
The French took a different view. When Alice traveled to France with Bertie, she was treated like a queen. At Biarritz, on the Atlantic coast, Bertie holidayed at leisure with Alice as though they were an old married couple. Bertie and Alice repaired to Biarritz every Easter, while Alix traveled and the Hon. George went off to that job at Lipton’s tea company so helpfully provided by Bertie.1 The French, it is always said, “understand these things,” and it was in Biarritz that the couple could truly be themselves, away from other royalty and politicians.
Alice and Bertie always made the journey to France separately. Alice traveled with her daughters, Violet and Sonia, their governess, Miss Draper, their nanny, and a succession of “studded wardrobe-trunks, standing up on end and high enough to stand in; hat-boxes, shoe boxes; rugs; travelling cushions and [Alice’s] travelling jewel-case.”2
It was here that Sonia witnessed an extraordinary transformation. From a small case, Alice unpacked a small pillow, a shapeless nightgown, and a mobcap. The nightgown went over Alice’s beautiful body, and her luxuriant red hair was piled underneath the mobcap, before she covered her face in a thick layer of grease. After Sonia had been put to bed in the upper berth, Alice put on a black eye mask, took a sleeping pill, and “lay for dead till morning.” Unable to sleep, Sonia would look down from her bunk at this strange apparition, “at Mama and in the weird blue ceiling light her white face its black-bandaged eyes looked ghastly.”3 The following morning, the attendant from the restaurant car would appear with steaming hot coffee and suppress a gasp of astonishment as the eye mask was removed and he would gaze into those sleepy turquoise eyes at close range.4
Bertie traveled to Biarritz under his nom de guerre as the “Earl of Chester,” although his entourage, consisting of thirty servants and his white fox terrier Caesar were as clearly identifiable as his portly figure and imperial beard. Bertie requisitioned three private railway carriages, and three cars and chauffeurs were sent on ahead.5 At Biarritz, Bertie checked into the Hôtel du Palais, while Alice and her daughters stayed at Sir Ernest Cassel’s magnificent residence, the Villa Eugénie, built by Napoleon III.
The Biarritz vacation was a family holiday, but not one that made any concessions to Alice’s family. Violet and Sonia found the trips stultifyingly dull, as did Sir Ernest Cassel’s daughter, Maudie: “We are his servants quite as much as the housemaid or the butler.”6 The girls’ nanny didn’t care much for Biarritz, either. “Our clothes were hard put to it to compete with those of Sir Ernest’s grandchildren, Edwina and Mary. And I suspect that Nannie put in several clandestine hours overtime washing and ironing, sensitively conscious of the inferior quality of the lace on our knickers.”7 The condition of her underwear had always been something of an issue for young Violet, who envied her young neighbors, the Alingtons, who always had “real” lace on their underclothes.8
After Bertie had spent a morning with his diplomatic bags, a necessity for the head of state even when he was en vacances, Alice would meet him at 1:15 every afternoon and they would walk along the promenade arm in arm before luncheon at the Hôtel du Palais. Luncheon was, like all Bertie’s meals, an elaborate affair, and Alice, once curvaceous, slowly gained weight as she settled into their relationship. Indeed, so comical did the pair look together that Princess Alexandra once summoned one of her ladies-in-waiting over to the window and pointed, laughing helplessly, at Bertie and Alice sitting fatly side by side as they drove around the grounds of Sandringham in a little carriage.9
Afternoons were reserved for sightseeing, walking among the sand dunes, or going to the races at La Barre in the three claret-colored cars. They dined at 8:15 and visited the casino and spent the evening playing interminable games of bridge, which Bertie must never be allowed to lose,10 until midnight. Bertie was not a good bridge player and Alice was often required to placate him.
Alice and Bertie were avid bridge players. The game was de rigueur at all events Bertie attended and he liked to play for high stakes. Several stories did the rounds about Mrs. Keppel’s technique. On one occasion, when, as king, Bertie admonished Alice for fluffing her cards, Alice excused herself by replying that she could never tell a king from a knave. On another, when Alice was given a difficult hand to play, she commented, “God save the king, and preserve Mrs Keppel
from his rage!”11
Easter Day brought a concession to the children in the form of elaborate eggs. Sonia recalled “lovely little jewelled Easter eggs given by Kingy and Sir Ernest, particularly an exquisitely midget one in royal blue enamel, embossed with a diamond ‘E’ and topped by a tiny crown in gold and rubies.”12
Then came the picnic. Bertie had an inexplicable preference for picnicking at the side of the road, despite the fact that he had one of the most recognizable faces in Europe. The roads in and out of Biarritz were always busy, and nothing could have seemed more incongruous than the sight of the Prince of Wales tucking in, complete with tables, chairs, silver, and service by footmen, as the cars slowed down to watch.
This was an elaborate Edwardian picnic, with a table covered by a linen cloth, laid with the finest silver cutlery and porcelain plates, and every variety of food.13 Caesar the fox terrier sat on Violet’s knees, despite the fact that the little girl loathed the dog and complained that he smelled. “Always he was accompanied by his dog Caesar, who had a fine disregard for the villa’s curtains and chair-legs, but a close regard for me.”14 After Biarritz, the couple traveled up to Paris. Bertie would stay in his usual suite at the Hotel Bristol, and Alice and her family at Sir Ernest Cassel’s apartment in the Rue de Cirque. In Paris, Alice shopped at Worth.
Wrote Violet:
I have vivid memories of the first time I accompanied my mother to the dressmaker, where she was received like a goddess. Monsieur Jean [Worth] supervising her fitting in person, the vendeuses quite shamelessly forsaking their other clients to vie with each other in flattering epithets. Il y avait de quoi. My mother had everything that could most appeal to them, lovely, vivacious, feted, fashionable, with a kind word for each of the anonymous old crones who had been for years in the establishment.…15
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